Santana Lopez Can, In Fact, Do Anything
by leftlanden
Summary: Santana plots to take Rachel's v-card.  Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

So here's the thing, I've noticed that lately I've been even more inclined than usual to want to mess up somebody's face or ruin their life, or whatever. I can't really put my finger on what it is, but two days ago I actually set someone on fire, which is harsh, even for me. I also seriously considered cutting my algebra teacher's brake lines when he gave me detention for putting gum in this chick's hair when she wouldn't let me look at her test paper. I smashed his headlights with a crowbar instead, which I think means I'm growing as a person, but still. Attempted murder is a step up in my game.

Anyway, I've narrowed this recent inner turmoil down to two major problems in my life. One - now that I'm not on Cheerios, I have to work that much harder to stay on top at this school. Without that uniform, I have to rely mostly on my smokin body, my genius insults, and my reputation for being easy to be feared and respected. And granted, I have amazing assets to work with, but sometimes I still catch underclassmen making eye contact with me. That's just wrong.

Puck is useless to me now that something in his tiny, mohawked brain has finally short circuited. The way he acts around that sumo sasquatch, I'm pretty sure his balls have just fallen off in the street somewhere. Sam is moderately cute in a grotesque sort of way, and it helps that I took him from Quinn and in the process tarnished the halo she still manages to have, even though her bastard child has been roaming the earth for less than a year, but it's not enough. I need something big, and I need to figure out what.

So the second thing is, all right fine, so I miss pussy. Whatever, I'm not gay, okay? I'm just easily bored. The guys in this school have no challenges to offer me, I can just lie there if I want to. Getting a girl off is a challenge, it takes skill. And my skills are going to waste, which is a travesty because I'm supposed to be getting it any time I want it. Before Brit went all hetero-monogamous with that half-robot and got all sensitive about his feelings or whatever, all I had to do was give her _that_ look across the hallway at school and she'd know I expected her under me in _my_ bed after Cheerios practice. So until that mechanical man train wreck is over, I need a hot, new piece of ass.

It all came together when I was tuning out Schuester in glee club yesterday - I had a lot on my mind, trying to figure out who I had to destroy this week to make myself more popular, when Rachel Berry turned her head and looked back over her shoulder at me. Fine, I might have been looking at her first, but please, it's not like I rested my eyes there on purpose or something... I was deep in thought, okay? The point is, she looked, and not just at my face. And I _know_ when I've been checked out. It only happens like 87 times a day.

And just like that, that little Jewberry opened a door I barely even had to knock on. She might be a shrill borderline-midget, and looking at her clothes might cause symptoms of conjunctivitis, but her legs and ass were pretty smokin and her tits weren't bad, either. And suddenly I knew how I could solve both of my problems and then some. I had found my challenge – a chance to knock the little drama dwarf off her virginal high horse – and at the same time prove my obvious superiority by succeeding where Puckerman, quarterback Frankenteen, and that gay guy from Vocal Adrenaline had failed.

I, Santana Lopez, would get Berry's cherry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Clearly, when I pick a challenge I make it a challenge for reals. I mean, I did sort of sleep with Berry's giant-headed Prince Charming before she could, and I've pretty much made it my mission to destroy her self-esteem, so she has no appreciation for my sense of humor. Of course I have to go for one of those chicks who takes everything so personally.

So like, the first steps will have to be subtle. I can't just put on my sluttiest top and proposition her with references to my body parts, and promises of the social advancement that comes with people knowing you're having sex with me, which is what I would normally do in a situation like this.

But I'm not worried. Right now it's all about getting her to look. And if she did it once when I wasn't even trying, I'm pretty sure I have a few ideas that will get her, shall we say, in the position I want her.

So the first thing I did was message Sandy Ryerson on Facebook and threaten to take a blowtorch and a can of hairspray to his creepy doll collection if he didn't let me borrow his Stephen Sondheim t-shirt, which I know about because he wore it while he was selling me weed behind the 7-11 three months ago.

Second, when I got my weekly manicure, let's just say I didn't get ten gold stars painted on my nails to make a fashion statement. I'm lucky I'm not even a little bit less hot, because otherwise this would relegate me to loserdom for all time.

Berry's double take when I walked into the choir room was priceless. I could almost smell the smoke coming from the grinding gears in her head while she tried to process the sight of me rocking an oversized t-shirt with this ugly old talented dude on the front. I sat next to her and counted to fourteen before I lost track of the number of sideways glances she made at my nails, so I made sure to position them near my lips at all times. She stopped after I gave her my best "the-fuck-are-you-looking-at" face. I mean, I want to fuck her and everything, but I can't be nice to her. It like ruins our whole dynamic.

Also, I got it on inside authority that our little gleeberry is all about wanting to be a trendsetter these days, or some crap like that. When I wore legwarmers on my actual legs the next day, it all finally boiled over in her brain and she was forced to start a conversation.

"Santana, are you mocking me?"

"Excuse me, garden gnome?"

"Well, it's just... yesterday you wore a shirt featuring a picture of Stephen Sondheim on the front and the titles of some of his best pieces on the back, and although he is one of the greatest musical geniuses of all time with songs to his credit that will elevate humanity for generations to come, I'm pretty sure you don't even know who he is. And, frankly, I don't like that you've stolen my signature gold star motif or, for that matter, my leg-warming attire."

"You know Berry, I didn't know you paid so much attention to my 'attire'. I'll wear something tighter for you tomorrow. Or see-through, maybe?" I ran my tongue over my front teeth.

"You should totally do that," Brittany nodded at me.

Quinn arched her eyebrows so high I thought they would fly off her face.

Rachel opened and her closed her mouth a few times, furrowed her brow, and sat back down. I smirked and ignored Quinn burning holes in the side of my head.

For step three, I told Mr. Schue in front of the class that I'd been having a lot of, you know, _feelings_, lately and I wanted to express myself in song. He got so excited he gave me the floor like immediately.

I know the little Streisand has a thing for this chick Idina Menzel, because she's always doing songs from her shows in glee club (and like, anywhere else people will let her). So I picked a song from this show Wicked that's all sad and vulnerable, about how this chick is left out because the hot guy picked the blond girl over her or something. I mean it's so super gay, but it does have the extra added bonus of possibly making Quinn squirm at the irony after, you know, losing Sam to me. Which she totally did.

Anyway, I totes sold it. It's actually a pretty song, and it's in my range. And Berry didn't take her eyes off me the. whole. time.

"That was beautiful, Santana," she said to me after rehearsal was over. "I never expected you to choose a Broadway song."

"Well, my Israeli pygmy mouse," I said as I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and headed for the door, "I guess as much as you want to see my career confined to a stripper pole, I do have other talents. Oh hey, remember when I sang and I helped us win Sectionals? Cause I think that happened. Hmmm."

Now, she knew something was weird even if she was afraid to bring it up, so it was time to take it up a notch. So when she was yammering on about choreography or harmonies or the high holy days or whatever, I said, "For god's sake Berry, will you give it a rest? Just because you have that sexy little mouth doesn't mean it should be constantly flapping!"

I get two points for that one, because she actually did shut up.

"Santana, what the hell are you doing?" Quinn whispered at me.

"Keepin it real, das all," I said with a shrug and a smile.

Berry sang in glee club twice that week, so typical, and I gave her my best smoldering stare both times. I mean, not to brag, but when I smolder at you, you will feel things. Also, it just so happens that I've never locked eyes with someone while they were singing and then not had sex with them later. Just ask any of the guys who play in the college bands at the underage clubs in Toledo.

So by Friday it was time to test the progress of this little project. If there is one important thing I've learned from seducing every guy at this school, it's how to score antibiotics without it showing up on your parents' health insurance. If there is another, it's how to know if someone is paying attention to you even if they look like they're not.

I chose my seat in the choir room strategically. Three seats down from Berry, not directly in her eyeline, but not out of it either. I had no leg warmers, no gold stars. I wore a tight black sweater that made my boobs look amazing but had nothing to do with Broadway. So if she was noticing anything, she was noticing me. I waited for class to settle in. And then I yawned - big, but silent - and totally contagious.

Less than three seconds later, Rachel fucking Berry yawned.

I was on her radar.

Why yes, if you were wondering, Santana Lopez can, in fact, do anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

So it's safe to say this whole fucking Rachel Berry thing is so totally on.

She's gotten used to me staring at her, so now she doesn't look nearly as much like she's passing a kidney stone, and more just like she has a bad case of heartburn. But I couldn't let it seem like I was waiting around for her, so I let Sam give me a hickey just to keep up appearances, and also to make people think of what it would be like to make out with me. Luckily, after dating Quinn for so long, Sam's used to having blue balls, so during our petting sessions I can bail after second base.

Anyway, everyone knows Berry goes to every meeting of every club at McKinley, and while normally that makes me want to shave off her eyebrows while she's sleeping and redraw them with green eyeliner, I was about to use it to take this little project to phase two.

So when she walked into the Thursday night meeting of the McKinley High chapter of the gay-straight alliance, there I was, slouching in a chair in a corner with my hair in my face, pretending to look all self-conscious like some loser girl in junior high who stands around by the bowls of Doritos while no one asks them to dance. I would have been totally humiliated to be there if I had any intention of actually staying for the meeting.

It worked like an effing charm. I watched her notice me, start walking toward me, think better of it and start to turn around. The she stopped, stuck her chin in the air and stuck her chest out in front of her before she turned and walked toward me. I could practically hear the cheap self-help article she stole from a teen magazine in her pediatrician's office when she was 11 that she must have recited in her head to get up the nerve.

"Santana?" She was leaning over me, hands on her plaid-skirted thighs, irritating look of concern on her face.

I pretended to be embarrassed for a split second, like the time my dad caught me going through his stack of Playboys. Then I rolled my eyes hardcore and said, "Christ, Berry, what are you doing here?"

"I'm a friend and ally of the gay community, of course," she said with a big stupid grin on her face. "My dads and I bake two dozen cupcakes for this meeting every month."

"But there are, like, six people here."

She looked around and pouted her lower lip a little, and I thought about how very soon that lip was going to be between my teeth.

"Well granted, the cupcakes are not quite the draw that we had hoped. But you're one of the most popular girls in school, Santana, and now that you're here -"

"Actually Berry, I don't think I can do this whole 'meeting' thing. I'm out of here."

She reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me, and I had to wipe the smirk from my face before I turned around and said, "Watch it, hobbit, did I say you could touch me?"

She pulled her hand back in horror and took a step back from me, twisted the fabric of her dress between her fingers. "Sorry," she said quietly. "But you should know, you called me a hobbit just four and a half days ago. Either you're losing your touch, Santana, or you've been talking to me a lot more lately."

I narrowed my eyes and said, "Do you keep, like, a chart of daily insults in your locker?"

"In my purse, actually. My locker wouldn't be a prudent place for that, I get so many that I would be highly likely to forget some by the time I got back there to record them."

"True dat," I said. "Look, Berry, I'm getting out of this Loserville. I thought I was ready for this but I'm not, so do you want to join me or what?"

She turned and looked at the sad little tables of rainbow cupcakes at the front of the room. "Oh. Well, if I leave I don't have a ride home, though. Charlie was going to drop me off after the meeting. . ."

I shrugged exasperatedly. "I have my dad's Benz, let's go."

She started to follow me and then stopped. "Wait. Are you going to abandon me at an active crack den?"

I sighed. "Only if you keep holding me up."

She frowned.

"Oh would you relax, lollipop guild, I can't go to the crack houses around here anymore, I have too many enemies."

We walked out of the classroom together and out towards my car. "Lollipop guild," she said brightly, "that was a good one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

So we're flying down the shitty streets of Lima, me behind the wheel of my dad's badass new car and Berry clenching the armrests all white-knuckled and breathing fast, and I'm totally thinking of speeding up this whole ordeal and getting all up on that just once before I let her out of the car, when she turns to me and says, "You know Santana, although you weren't ready to participate in this evening's meeting, I just want to say that I think it's an incredibly healthy decision you've made to be open and start coming to terms with your bisexuality, and I for one, will be there for you if you need-"

I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. "I'm going to stop you right there, Hoggle. First of all, that was way too many words for anyone to say all at once, and you weren't even done with that sentence. Second of all, I am not bisexual."

She sat there looking at me all stunned. "I'm not, okay?" I said. "I know what it looks like, or whatever, but I'm not gay and I'm not bisexual either."

"Okay. I'm sorry Santana, I jumped to conclusions. We don't have to discuss-"

I sighed again. "I'm just a PERSON, okay Berry? I likes what I likes and I do what I want, and if more people were like me, this world would have way fewer problems."

"I actually completely agree with you about that." She furrowed her brow. "Wait, just to be clear I mean on the lack of labels part, I'm sort of glad more people don't drive like you or destroy people's love lives for recreational sport."

I shrugged and smirked at her. "It's all or nothing, baby. I keeps it real, and I don't put limits on the possibilities just because someone's panties might get all bunched. And I don't put limits on who I like to fuck, because it all feels pretty good to me."

"Well you may not like to call it anything specific, Santana, but the fact remains. You like girls. You like their bodies, I've seen the way you look at them. In fact I've seen it a lot lately. And if you like to look I'm sure you like to.. you know.. touch." She swallowed.

Oh, it was so on.

I held her gaze for a few seconds and then swept my eyes up and down her body, nice and slow. "You got that right, Berry."

Even in the light of just the streetlights I saw her cheeks flush.

"It must be difficult," she said quietly, "to see Brittany with Artie every day."

Christ on a cracker, why did this bitch have to psychoanalyze me just when I was finally getting somewhere? Women, I swear to god. I turned away from her and stared out the front window.

"Whatever. It's super ridiculous and it'll be over as soon as she gets it out of her system. She's never had a real boyfriend before, I guess. You know, somebody being nice to her all the time."

Berry kept her mouth shut on that one, lucky for her.

"To be honest with you, though," I said, getting an idea. "I do miss her."

She looked at me all sympathetic.

"Because for serious, Berry," I continued, "tangling my legs up with hers? You know, those long, perfect dancers legs? Yeah, I miss that."

She didn't say anything.

"I miss putting my lips next to her ear and just... breathing."

She still didn't say anything, and now she wouldn't look at me. I had this feeling I was about to get really lucky, or really slapped in the face.

"I miss how she used to let me kiss her." I paused, and nodded when Berry glanced up at me. "Yeah, cause um, I would start... you know, right at her earlobe and I would kiss her all...the...way...down."

I leaned in a little closer, and traced a line with my fingertips from my earlobe across my neck, over my chest and stomach, and pulled my hand away just before it landed between my legs.

"And I really, really miss. . . making her whimper my name."

I'm not sure if it was because I was thinking about Brit or because I was seeing the way Berry's mouth fell open when I pulled that little stunt, but I was getting seriously wet.

"But enough about me, Berry." I said with a smile, sitting upright again. "Anything you want to share? Any women you care to discuss? And don't even think about lying to me and saying no, you're just so totally straight, because for realsies, when you and Quinn were having all that Finn-Puck drama this time last year I saw some serious sparks. I mean, I get it, I do. She's a prude, but a hot one, right?"

Berry finally closed her mouth, and she squinched up her face and shook her head. "I don't know. I mean, yes, but. . . Santana, take me home. I need to go home, please. You're really confusing me right now and I need to go home."

"That's fine, Berry," I said. "I kinda need to 'go home' too."

Later that night, after I had taken care of things, I texted Berry.

"u ever think of a way i might help u work through that confusion u just lets santana know, kk?"

I didn't get a response. Not that night, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Berry didn't show up at school on Friday. It was so alternate universe that Schuester had Figgins call her gaymo dads and make sure she hadn't had a fatal ballet studio accident or finally run away to join the circus. I was pretty sure she was confined to bed. Thinking about me.

She was leaning against my car when I got to the student parking lot after glee rehearsal. I scowled at my minions and they scattered.

"Cutting class now, Berry?" I asked while I was walking up to her. "Santana likey." I stood about a foot away from her, crossed my arms, and smiled expectantly.

"I suggest you let me into your car immediately, Santana, if you'd like to avoid a very unpleasant public scene."

Her jaw was clenching and she was trying so hard to put all this, like, fire in her eyes, probably to try to convince me she wasn't peeing her argyle tights. So I clicked my keychain twice and made this big show of opening the passenger door for her.

"Thank you," she said. "Damn it, I swore I wouldn't be polite." She turned and faced me before I closed the door. "I take it back."

"Don't worry, you're not welcome." I walked around the front of the car and sat down in the driver's seat.

She held up her phone about an inch from my face and said, "Santana, what the hell are you doing?"

"Umm, hold up there a sec, Yiddish Barbie." I said, and pushed her phone back toward her. "I don't know how they do things in the Motherland, but here in America that kind of tone means I's abouts ta get my posse and assimilate you myself, so let's take it down a lil' bit, kay?"

She shook her head. "That is exactly the problem with you, Santana. You would rather use that... that false bravado and make a ridiculous joke out of resorting to physical violence than confront my emotions."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Phil, we haven't all been going to therapy since we were 7 months old. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind and I'll show you some confronting?"

"Fine." She shifted in the passenger seat so that she was facing me. "You asked for it."

"Even before there was a glee club, you, more than any other person at McKinley, made my life miserable. The slushies, the elbows when I'm walking down the hallway, the truly hurtful insults about everything from my talent to my clothes, to the size and shape of my nose, which by the way are well within normal proportions.

And now, even though we share this truly wonderful common experience almost every school day, the hurt suffered at your hands hasn't stopped. You may be talented, but you are also mean, selfish, and, above all else, manipulative. The only nice thing you've ever said to me was that you liked my Britney Spears schoolgirl outfit, and now given the aspects of your interest in me that have recently come to light, I know that was only hormonal.

And it's not just me. You broke up Sam and Quinn for personal gain. You give people communicable diseases to prove a point.

And then," she swallowed and looked me in the eye. "Then there is the fact of what you did to Finn and me. You, Santana, took something very important from Finn. You took it just because you could, and now I never can. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? You have looks and popularity that I can never hope to have, and you wield them like weapons.

And now, I just have to wonder. Who is the target this time? Who are you trying to hurt by sleeping with me? If it's Finn or Noah you're barking up the wrong tree, and I think you know that. And I'm sorry, but we both know Sam doesn't care about you enough to be hurt by this.

Maybe this is giving you too much credit, but I think you care for Brittany too much for this to be about her, although you did use intimate memories of her to try to get me into bed. Then again, I'm also not entirely sure that Brittany would understand if this were about her, so I've concluded that it's not.

Therefore, my deductive reasoning skills force me to surmise that the person you are trying to hurt by sleeping with me...is me." She paused and nodded at me before continuing.

"So what is it? What's the plan? Are.. are you out to try to lure me into a compromising position and humiliate me? Or is it just about being able to tell people that you used me, or make me look like a slut because I would be with you? Is it something I haven't even thought of yet but would haunt me for the rest of my days at McKinley if I ever actually went through with it?

Answer me, Santana, and don't lie to me. If you have any feelings for me as a person, a human being and not just a target or a conquest, you owe me that much."

So then she finally stopped to catch her breath, and I stared at her for a couple of long seconds. I felt sort of like Lauren Zizes slammed me headfirst into a locker. God I hate that sumo.

Berry's eyes were all huge and sad, and her chest was heaving just a little from trying to replace all that oxygen she lost from yelling at me. No wonder men don't talk to each other when they hang out. They're too exhausted.

I took a deep breath.

"Listen, Berry," I said, looking down at my legs. "I'm not a complicated person. Do I sometimes maybe have ulterior motives for things? Uhh, eeyyeah. Do I have them now? Fine, maybe. Were you a challenge I laid out for myself? Whatever, maybe that's part of it. But do I want you? Like legit want to be up on that? Hells to the yeah I do.

You think you're mad at me about Finn, but you're not. You're mad at him for liking me, and you're mad at yourself for losing him because of your own stupid, insecure choice to have a makeout session with Noah the day you found out Finn had sex with me.

This ain't about friendship and it ain't about any of those other people. Whether this thing with us happens or not, in like two seconds you're going to go back to pining for Finnessa, and I'm going to go back to waiting for Brittany to lose another wheelchair, just like the sad sacks that we are.

But you want me. You might hate me, but you want me.

And Berry? Nobody, including me, can take advantage of you if you don't let them. Own your choices, for fuck's sake. Stop being scared, woman up, and take what you know is gonna be good. And damn woman, hurry up because I'm losing wood over here."

"I don't hate you, Santana."

"We'd be hot together, Rachel. I know it." I leaned closer. "And you know it."

"I.. I suppose I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a... a certain energy in this car right now."

I took that as one big-ass green light.

I didn't want to spook her and send her flailing off into a corner like an abused domestic cat, so I didn't touch her. I just leaned in and put my mouth on hers.

It was so good, that little soft, warm, wet mouth she had. She let me open it right away and I took her tongue in circles. She wasn't going all out, but she was into it. It was hard not to grab her face. Or her tits.

Greater goal, here, Santana.

She ran her little tongue over my bottom teeth and I got wet like immediately. What, she has a good mouth, okay?

But as soon as one of her hands came up to the side of my face, it was game over. I ran my right hand up into her hair and curled my fingers into it.

She gasped and pulled away.

Damn it, I knew it. I knew she'd spook. And now she was going to take her warm mouth, her flushed cheeks, and that hot little ass and leave.

"Santana, take me home."

I let out a groan and leaned my head back against the car seat. "Christ, Berry, again? I'm not your god damn chauffeur, all right?"

But then she gave me this look, and holy Mary mother of god, I knew I had it all wrong. "No. Santana... take me _home_."

Did I mention it was on?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"I've never been to Lima Heights Adjacent before," she said as I pulled into my driveway. "It actually looks rather gentrified - I thought you were from the wrong side of the tracks."

"Whatever, there are no tracks in Lima, Berry."

"I'm going to have to insist that you don't call me that this evening. At least not during. . . things, unless you want me to picture you with a slushie in your hand."

I smirked. "And I'm going to have to insist that you don't pretend like you get to make the demands, here, Smurfette."

She smiled brightly. "But you showed your hand, Santana. You were very clear about what you wanted, so I certainly have some power in this situation. Anyway, I got so caught up in the moment in the parking lot that I didn't even ask if it would be okay to come here. Will your parents mind?"

"They don't care if I have girls stay over. My mother thinks Brit and me are up there painting our toenails and braiding each others' hair. I just put on music in case anyone gets, you know... loud," I said as I opened the front door.

"Mama, my friend Rachel is staying over!" I called out as we walked through the kitchen to the stairs.

"Okay, baby," came a disembodied voice from across a few rooms.

And then Rachel Berry was in my bedroom. I closed the door, and then locked it.

So the thing about taking a girl's virginity, which I might not have thought through when I hatched this little plan, is that if you don't want to be a total douche, you have to sort of... do it right. I mean, by this point Brits and I wouldn't have underwear on, but now Berry was just standing there, leaning against my desk, looking around my room. I couldn't just rip her clothes off.

"So do you need, like, a drink or something?" I asked. "I have a bottle of jack in my underwear drawer."

"Of course you do," she said. "No, thank you."

"Whatevs, that's fine," I said. "I'll want you to remember things tomorrow. Do you need food? I think I have some kosher pickles in the fridge."

"I'm not hungry," she said.

Crap. She looked sort of ready to hurl.

I had to do something, so I put my hand on her shoulder and said, "Look, Rachel, don't be nervous, all right? Tonight I'm going to do something I haven't done since I was 11 in the confession booth of St. Margaret's with Jorge the head altar boy. I'm going to take it slow."

I put my hands on the desk on either side of her and looked at her for a second before I dipped my head to the right and breathed into her ear.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Yes."

She smelled like vanilla. It was her skin, not her hair.

I took the soft skin of her neck into my mouth and sucked. I know that always relaxes me, mostly because you can't really think about anything when someone is doing that to you, and let's be honest, the fewer thoughts happening in this situation, the better for me.

Her head fell back and her hands came up to touch my back. So I felt like it was okay to put my left hand on her face – not too much forcefulness, just rested it there – and worked my mouth up from her neck, across her chin, to her lips.

She let me lead and I pushed her tongue around inside her mouth. God, that tongue was good when it was doing this, not talking.

"Santana?" I just _had_ to think it, didn't I?

"Rachel?" I breathed in her ear.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don't know how many other context clues you need, Berry."

"I mean, don't make fun of me if I'm not any good. There is a lot I don't know."

"Rachel, by the time I'm done with you, you won't even know who you are."

I put my tongue back in her mouth before she could say anything else. I felt her ankles pressing into my calves so I let my body press in closer.

Ninety seconds later. . . "Santana?"

"Lord almighty, there is a lot of talking going on up in here."

"I guess I can't get mad at Finn for sleeping with you anymore."

"Rachel, if there were ever, ever in your life, a good time to maybe not talk about Finn, this would pretty much be it."

"Right, okay. You can kiss me again."

"Great, thanks."

A few minutes later, in the split seconds I pulled my mouth away from hers, I said, "My arms are tired... from... leaning here. Trust me, you don't want that. Come... with me."

I pulled us both up to standing, and she wobbled on her feet, leaning into me for balance. It was totes weird making out with someone shorter than me.

"I like girls lips," she said, and then giggled.

I wanted to say no, not "girls"... mine.

But I was trying to be sensitive or whatever, so instead I said, "I knew it," which, okay fine, might not have been any better. But it was truth.

I grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her toward my bed. Time to ramp up this little game. I sat down on the foot of my bed and pulled her over to me so that she was standing between my thighs.

I yanked first her right leg and then her left up onto the bed on either side of me, so that she was straddling me.

Berry might have been a virgin but she wasn't new at this part, that was for sure. I thought she might be all shy and nervous the whole time, but she wrapped her elbows around the back of my neck and supported her weight on her own legs so she could move up and down against me. She wasn't grinding on me, although, god, that's what it was making me want. She was just sliding her body over mine, up and down, ever so slowly. I let my hands fall to her hips so I could feel them moving.

"That is so hot, Rachel. Keep going."

Ten minutes later I said, "You're short." I mean I'm sorry, she was on top of me and our faces were the same height, was I supposed to not notice that?

"You sometimes make it clear that you've noticed that about me, yes," she said. "I thought there was no talking."

"There isn't." I pulled her down on top of me and pulled her shirt over her head.

"You too," she murmured, and I sat up just enough to let her pull my sweater over my head.

"Pink with little hearts," I observed. "Predictable."

"And a black lace push-up bra isn't predictable on you?"

"So it's not making you wet, then?"

She blushed hardcore and I smiled. She rested all of her weight on me and I kept kissing her, running my hands all over her back and her ass, tickling her sides.. . making her squirm.

When she threatened to flail herself right off the bed, I wrapped my arms all the way around her and rolled her onto her back. I'm not about trying to rush her into anything, and it's not like this wasn't fun and all, but I needed her tits at this point. I mean, I can only have them rubbing against me for so long before I get full access.

"This shit is in my way," I said, and reached under her to unhook her bra. She breathed in really fast but she didn't stop me, and I slid it down her arms and off.

I ran my lips over her neck again, this time with my left hand massaging her right breast. When I dragged my nails over her nipple she moaned, so I kept doing it, and her breathing started coming hard and fast. I added some teeth against her neck, and her belly arched up into mine.

Then I felt her hands on the middle of my back. "Shit," she said. "I don't know how to do this from this angle."

"Gots it under control, Berry." I reached behind me with one hand, keeping the other one in her hair, and undid the clasp of my bra. She took the shoulder straps and slid it off my arms and I let my tits fall against hers. She let out this sexy little whimper and craned her neck to see how it looked where they met.

"Yeah, we look hot pressed up against each other, you can go ahead and think it."

Her nipples were hard, which might as well be an engraved invitation to a party in my mouth.

I slid my hips just a little way down her body and made circles with my tongue around her right nipple.

"Jesus Christ," she gasped.

"I thought you were Jewish," I said.

"Don't stop," she said.

"I'll stop if I want to," I said.

"You don't."

"True dat."

I rolled her hard little nipple around in my mouth and traced light lines with my fingertips along her right side. It tickled her, and her body arched into me as she tried to get away from my nails. So, of course, I kept doing that.

That's when she dragged her fingernails up into my hair for the first time and pulled my face down, firmly into her tits.

I will say this for Berry, too, she lets you know what she likes. Usually it's with noises – these sexy, breathy, pleading noises. But once she even grabbed my hips and moved them over by like two inches.

"Oh, is there somewhere you wanted my leg, Rachel?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and blushed.

"Yeah, I know what you want," I said. "Give me more skin first."

She let me take off her skirt and tights, and then I unbuttoned my jeans.

"I've never been this naked with someone before," she said.

That was sort of intense.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, just. . . I'm glad it's getting dark outside, I think."

"I was just thinking of turning on the lights. Nothing here you should want to hide, Berry."

I finished taking off my jeans. I held myself up over her and let my hair fall around her face, pressed my hips down into hers. She was so wet. I could feel it through her underwear, against my belly.

"Stay on top of me, Santana," she pleaded.

"Don't tell me what to do, midget. You don't need to hide under me."

"That's not it," she panted, "It feels good."

For the first time, I rolled my eyes at Rachel Berry in pleasure and not exasperation.

I thrust my hips into her, pushing against her pussy with mine.

She groaned and reached her hands up over her head. I felt her legs come up and wrap around my ass, so I reached back and grabbed one of them and pushed it back towards her head.

"Damn these legs can reach high," I observed. She might be as flexible as I was, which could totally get fun.

I pushed myself against her, over and over, rubbing our warm wetness against each other. She braced herself against my headboard and her mouth fell open.

Fuck, she was getting close, I could tell from watching her. "Don't come like this Rachel," I warned her. "Tell me to stop if you get too close."

"Jesus, fuck, Santana, stop, stop now. . ."

I stopped.

"Rachel," I whispered.

"Yeah," she panted back.

"Are you ready?"

"I think so," she said.

"Listen munchkin, this is a serious responsibility I have here. You have to do better than that."

She opened her eyes for the first time in a long time. "I'm ready."

I lowered my mouth to her ear. "Good. Do you want to hear what I'm going to do to you?"

"I…umm.."

"I'll take that as a yes. First, I'm so ready to see your pussy, so I'm getting rid of these." I slipped my fingers inside the waistband of her underwear and slid them down, then off. I ran my hand over this newly exposed skin, just grazing sticky curls. I bent down and ran my lips over the curve of her hip bones and watched goosebumps break out across her stomach and thighs.

Her scent hit my nose full force and I told her, "You smell so good when you're turned on."

I palmed the protrusion of her hip bones, pushing her down into the bed, then ran my left hand across to her center. "Next I want to make your clit feel like fire," I said.

I pulled her open with two fingers and saw her little pink nub between soaking wet curls.

When I finally touched it, she cried out and put her hands on either side of my face, and I leaned over her, watching her face while I rubbed her. I pulled my fingertips up and down over her, then rolled her little clit in between them. Five minutes into this her stomach muscles clenched and she bared her teeth and pulled at my hair. She started to thrust her hips into me and I pulled away a little.

"Uh oh, not so fast. This is not how you're coming, either, Rachel," I whispered in her ear, and slid my fingers up across her belly, leaving a sticky trail across her skin.

"Fuck, Santana," she moaned in frustration. "Is this it? Was it your plan all along to kill me?"

I smiled. "When I finally let you come for me, Berry, I intend to make sure you _want it_."

I slid my body between her legs and she wrapped one around my waist, bracing herself against the bed with the other.

"Take these off," she said, playing with the waistband of my underwear.

"Ordering me around now?" I smirked.

"You're lucky I don't kick your ass off this bed and take care of things myself," she hissed.

"I would love to see you try that, Berry, I really would."

So she fucking tried it.

She was almost completely under me, but she took me by surprise and almost got me flipped over before I got my balance back and pinned her arms down on the bed.

"I was a Cheerio for two and a half years, Berry, you're not going to win this fight."

"You're strong, I'll give you that," she said. "But I've been a dancer for fourteen years." She pulled one leg out from under me and used it to propel herself with enough momentum to flip me onto my back.

Those legs on her weren't just for show.

I sat up as soon as my back hit the sheet and caught hold of her arms even as she was trying to push me back down, pinning them behind her back. We sat there facing each other, daring the other one to try something. She lunged at me again but I was on top of her already, still holding her wrists behind her back.

"Wasn't there something you wanted me to be doing, Rachel? Stop fighting me or next time I'll get out my handcuffs."

I was so turned on from wrestling with her that I pushed open her legs, and slid the two middle fingers of my left hand into her pussy. She gasped.

"Rachel," I breathed. "You're so wet." Her tight little muscles pulsed against my fingers.

She didn't say anything. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was barely breathing. I slid in and out of her slowly, watching her feel me.

"Berry. Rachel, look at me."

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Are we good here?"

"If you stop, I will end you."

I pulled her hair to say, like, you are so not the boss here. She looked up at me with narrowed eyes. Yeah, she was ready. This was happening now.

I moved in and out of her in shorter, quicker motions. I found her g-spot, partly because I could feel it inside of her, but mostly because she cried out every fucking time I dragged my fingertip across it. To think I had actually thought she was going to be shy.

I went at a torturous pace, taking breaks to kiss her, sometimes sucking on her nipples. I didn't want this to be about her coming. I wanted it to be about me _fucking her_.

Half an hour later her skin was covered in a slick layer of sweat, her hair clinging to her neck in curls. My arm was burning with the effort and I could feel beads of sweat on my neck. And underneath me she was so wet I could hear my fingers sliding through her stickiness.

I tugged at her hair to get her to look at me. "Don't even think about coming yet," I breathed into her ear as I fucked her. "Do you understand me? I'm not done here yet."

I took my fingers out, slid my arms under her, and rolled her onto her belly. I took her right hip in my right hand and pulled her ass back into my body then wrapped my arm around her belly from beneath, and slid the fingers of my left hand back inside her, slapping my palm against her ass every time I went in.

I almost came watching it.

When her pussy got all swollen and started to clench my fingers so hard I had trouble keeping them in, I grabbed her by the hair and rolled her back onto her back so I could see her face during what was about to happen. Her cheeks and lips were dark, her eyes were unfocused and she grabbed at my hair and my back before her hands found the fabric of the sheets and curled around it. I put my fingers back in and finished her with a few last hard, fast strokes.

"Fuck… yes... Santana… yes…"

I have to say, I kind of love it when girls scream my name while they're coming, and holy sweet Yahweh, Berry was so intense. She was almost legit crying. I was not going to forget this particular moment in approximately ever.

She gripped my legs with her feet and rocked her body up and down on my fingers on her way back down, and buried her face in my neck. She couldn't see me so I let myself grin.

Ten minutes passed with her lying against me, and me running my fingers tips up and down the damp skin of her back, and I thought she had fallen asleep. "I'm going to touch you now Santana," she murmured into my neck.

"You don't have to do that, Rachel," I said. "This was about me taking advantage of you, not the other way around."

"Do you think I would fuck you out of obligation? Just… be patient with me, please." She sat up, a determined look on her face. "Any words of wisdom?"

"You already know what to do. Do what you do to yourself."

So, I wasn't expecting this part – reciprocation – and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. When someone's fingers are on your clit you're at their mercy, and this girl did kind of hate me.

Once those soft fingertips were sliding through my stickiness and her tits were bouncing in my face as she moved, I got over it.

Afterwards I was lying on my back trying to get my breath back, and she was sitting Indian style, leaning forward to rest her head on my belly. She was rubbing her sticky fingers together and examining them intently. "You know, Santana," she said, "You really should have some hair down there. It's much healthier, protecting you against infectious microorganisms and chafing."

She was lucky I'd just had an orgasm. I glared up at her and closed my eyes again.

"Not that I don't like. . . how it looks," she stammered. "I'm sorry I'm not as sexy down there as you.".

"Don't worry about it Berry, I like a landing strip just fine."

She sat for a minute, staring at me. "Your body is so amazing. It's no wonder you can have anyone you want."

"Shut up, Berry." I started to pull the blanket over myself and she stopped me.

"I liked how you reached behind you and grabbed the pillows when you had an orgasm. That was good. That was.. that was hot." Her cheeks turned bright red.

I laughed. "See, Rachel? Now you know how freaking wise I truly am. Think of what you would have missed out on if you let the fact that you hate me get in the way of us giving each other orgasms."

"I don't hate you, Santana. Also, I'm heartened to know after tonight that if it did come down to a street brawl between us, I could definitely hold my own against you. You may have a height advantage, tons of lean muscle and not an ounce of body fat, but I did pin you on your back for approximately four seconds."

"It was not anywhere near that long, short stack."

"We should arm wrestle."

"My arms are tired, Berry. Maybe you remember why. Also, why doesn't sex make you sleepy like it does to normal people? You're pretty much a total mutant."

She got quiet again, then sat up. "Should I get dressed so you can take me home?"

I sat up too and looked at her. "Is that what you want?"

"Well, your bed is really quite comfortable. Also highly sturdy and not noisy at all, which I guess is really important for you considering how much use it gets and the proximity of your parents to this room."

I laid back down with a sigh. "Berry, go to sleep."

"Fine. You are highly bossy, before, during, and after sex."

"You like it."

She laid down next to me.

"So what happens now? How do people behave at school on Monday after hooking up on Friday?"

"Well Berry, I'm going to buy you a promise ring this weekend, so you can wear that and everyone can know you're mine. Then we'll walk down the halls holding hands and tell each other about our days and maybe we'll even get matching tattoos on our ankles. We'll have to kiss each other on the cheek between every class, and we'll lock ourselves in the janitor's closet when we need a quickie. . . Actually, I can totally see that last part happening."

"So it's basically going to go back to normal with me annoying you and you being horrible to me."

"Pretty much."

"Will you still stare at me lecherously when I sing in glee club? Because frankly, that was kind of exciting."

"You're going to have to look extra hot to keep my attention now that you let me in your pants once already."

"Can I have that Sondheim t-shirt?"

"For the love of all that is holy, Berry, go to sleep."


End file.
